


Finishing Each Other's Sentences

by galacticproportions



Series: Veterans' Affairs [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, Mention of attempted rape (offstage), Offstage plot I guess, Old married sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, five times/one time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticproportions/pseuds/galacticproportions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five sprints and a marathon, toward the end of the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finishing Each Other's Sentences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bomberqueen17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bomberqueen17/gifts).



> This happened because of bomberqueen17's musings on "old married sex". I present it with gratitude for the mighty Home Out in the Wind and its sequel-in-progress, Can't Go Home This Way.

1.

 

"When do you leave?"

 

"Before dawn," Poe says apologetically. "Shitty timing."

 

That's about four standard hours away. Finn has been waiting up, trying to sort out a bunch of depositions from three defecting stormtroopers waiting for Resistance clearance, but mostly looking at nothing while he waited for the briefing to finish. He ought to be used to this; they're apart a lot these days. He stretches, feeling his spine pop around the repaired vertebrae, and says, "We should get some sleep."

 

Poe's arm skims around his waist, pulling him close. "Fuck me first?"

 

Finn laughs, kisses him. "How can I say no to that?"

 

"Um, easily?" Poe steps back. "Completely? Without hesitation? You do know that, right?"

 

"Poe! Shit's sake, of course I do. I took that uniform off a long time ago, remember? I say no thanks anytime I don't feel like it, you've heard me." He buries his face in Poe's neck, inhales, kisses, bites. "It's just that I mostly feel like it all the time."

 

He can feel Poe's relief in his body, almost smell it. "I'll just take this stuff off, then." It's almost impossible to undress gracefully--Finn feels like there should be a better way to get your pants off than one leg at a time--but Poe always seems to manage it, and be lying luxuriously on the bed while Finn's still standing with one knee bent like a weird bird. He finishes extricating himself from his clothes, grabs the jar of lube from under the bed, says, "Put your knees up for me."

 

He takes a minute to get Poe ready, pressing his fingers in and up mostly for the satisfaction of watching Poe's eyes roll back and his mouth go soft, says, "You ready for me?" even though he can feel the answer just because he likes to hear Poe stutter, "Yeah, please, please." Simple, familiar pleasures. Once he's inside it doesn't take him long to speed up, angle his hand between their bodies to circle Poe's cock, whisper, "I want you to come while I'm still in you," and then lose himself in the rock and thrust and the grip of Poe's fingers on his shoulders, forgetting that he meant to hold back for a while, coming with a groan and a laugh before Poe does, pulling out to finish him off with his mouth.

 

"Sleep," he says, after they clean up a little. "We'll do this again when you get back."

 

2.

 

It turns out that if your ship is in good repair and no one is shooting at you and there are no asteroids around, space is boring, and you have to make your own excitement.

 

Finn and Poe are en route to continue in person some very, very cautious negotiations between the Resistance and a supposed First Order infiltrator, on a planet at least nominally neutral to both. Poe is there to measure what they can offer against what the Resistance requires, and Finn is there to assess the genuineness of the offer and the trustworthiness of their contact. Mutually, they're there as muscle and moral support.

 

At the moment, moral support involves turning the pilot's chair as far sideways as it will go so Finn can kneel between Poe's legs without cracking his head on the instrument panel.

 

They have five minutes, give or take, before they need to enter orbit and hail a suspicious and potentially hostile interlocutor with the right mix of confidence, deference and professionalism. And yet Finn is taking his time, licking and nuzzling, stroking Poe's thighs, letting Poe's head touch the soft back of his throat and then pulling off, because he knows exactly what will make Poe come in seconds and he's not doing it.

 

Finn's mouth is always a revelation, but this isn't Poe's first blowjob from Finn and it isn't even his first blowjob from Finn in space, so he's not entirely distracted from the fact that they now have about three minutes left. He tries to communicate this by arching his hips up, but this backfires: Finn lifts his head, smiles that delighted smile that Poe would find irritating in the circumstances if it weren't the most beautiful thing the galaxy has to offer anytime at all, and says, "Don't worry."

 

He dips his head again, and it turns out he's right to tell Poe not to worry, because his tongue turns into a tornado and he does something with his free hand that Poe's not even sure about, and Poe comes with a shout that will make his voice hoarse when they hail their contact, with a minute and a half to spare.

 

3.

 

For the first morning in a long while, neither of them has to be anywhere but their bed. No meetings, no briefings, no all-calls, nothing but the drift up from and back into sleep and warmth and the illusion, at least, of safety. A major offensive--no one wants to say "potentially decisive", but it's based on new intel and involves some unexpected allies, and they're the ones choosing the time which is in itself an unusual turn of events--is three days away and there's plenty left to do, but no one needs anything from them at just this moment.

 

Even Poe's hand, stroking and moving lower, feels restful rather than demanding. Finn rolls to kiss him but recalls, "My mouth tastes like shit, I have to clean my teeth."

 

"Okay, but come back." When he does, Poe draws him close, with just enough room to put his hand where it was before. Sweet kisses, lips and tongue and teeth, nowhere in particular to go, only together to be, the smell of their bed and bodies like a second blanket.

 

They roll and rub and slide against each other, not speaking except by touch, just breathing into each other's mouths, Finn's cock fitting into the hollow of Poe's thigh. He sucks Poe's bottom lip full and hot, loses the plot for a second in a particularly precise shift of Poe's hips. At some point he finds himself wanting to speak, wanting to say _This is perfect,_ wanting to say _You're my home,_ but he doesn't want to drag them back into time or break the hush that feels so much like a circle of protection.

 

When he comes it's like it's been building slowly since the moment he opened his eyes that morning, an updraft cresting and subsiding. He buries his face in Poe's neck and his tears leave damp prints there, dry by the time he sleeps again and wakes.

 

4.

 

When Poe comes into their quarters, Finn is pacing between the desk and the bed, something Poe's never seen him do. He says cautiously, "Hearings didn't go so hot today?"

 

"You could say that." Pace, pace, turn.

 

"You wanna talk about it?"

 

"Not really. Yes. It's just frustrating. That fucking _panel_ of Core Worlds relics, acting like I'm not intelligent enough to understand what the First Order did to me, and what I did for them, and how I left. Or not human enough. If it was just me, whatever, but they treat Little Sevens and Elbows like that too, after what they went through to get out!" He stops himself with a visible, tangible effort, anger vibrating all the way to the walls.

 

"What would help?" Poe asks. "Can I rub your back? Blow you? Leave you alone for a bit?"

 

Finn looks at him, steady but also hesitant. "Can I be a little rough with you?"

 

Poe's insides contract and his heart speeds up. "You have to ask? You know I love it."

 

" _Yes,_ I have to ask, that's how it fucking works!"

 

"Okay. I know. I'm saying yes. Yes, I want it. Be rough with me." And then Finn's pushing him against the wall, full weight, getting a hand in his hair and yanking his head back to suck at his throat. Poe can feel the blood coming to the surface and he moans, which seems to drive Finn crazier even than usual; he actually lifts Poe and _carries_ him to the bed, half-flings him down, follows him there, pins him with his body. All that muscle and warmth and substance for Poe to writhe against, loving his helplessness, harder by the second. And that's even before Finn moves off him just long enough to drag Poe's pants down, and his own, before he says, "Turn over," and it feels like a slap, in the best possible way.

 

Poe knows Finn will want him with his ass in the air but he waits to be told, because he also knows it'll feel good to be told and he knows it'll make Finn feel good to tell him. He likes that he can't see behind him, likes listening to Finn spit on his hand and stroke himself the rest of the way hard, can't help squirming when he feels the tip of Finn's cock probing and then pushing forward, fast and deep. "Ah, fuck, you're so--" and then Finn's hand is covering his mouth, he groans and drools against it.

 

He sort of wants to ask, after, if it's better now, but he decides to trust Finn's willingness to lie close to him and stroke his stomach instead of getting up to pace again. Things can be better without being fine, he knows that. Instead he asks, "I get how 'Little Sevens' works, but why 'Elbows'?"

 

Finn smiles. "She broke another trooper's elbows when he tried to rape her in the engine room."

 

" _Both_ of them?"

 

"So she says."

 

"Damn," Poe says. "I don't know if I could do that."

 

"She's amazing," Finn agrees. "And that's nothing to how she defected. I'll tell you about it sometime. Not now."  


"Not now." He pauses, deciding. "Speaking of amazing," he says.

 

"You talking about what we just did?"  


"I'm talking about you."

 

 

5.

 

The delegation sends word ahead of them that after almost a year of negotiations, concessions and attempts to resurrect the conflict, the complicated series of treaties has been signed by all parties, and those back at the base immediately start clearing a patch of ground for a bonfire and requisitioning everyone's private liquor stashes and hassling the people who play instruments to generate a celebratory mood, even though no one's sure whether the treaties will actually hold and everyone is thinking of the people who should be here but never will be again.

 

Finn steps off the transport looking gray and drawn, but when he sees Poe his smile transforms his face, his body, the whole bustling scene, the color of the sky. They collide. "I'm so proud of you," Poe says against Finn's ear.

 

"I'm just glad it's done. I wanna sleep for a year."

 

"Better do it now. Everyone's gearing up for a party and I think it's gonna get loud."

 

"Come with me?" Neck kiss, neck bite. "Come lie down with me."

 

Poe's tempted, but: "I'm part of the entertainment, and I gotta practice. Go get some sleep. I'll see you later." At least he gets to watch Finn's ass as he walks away.

 

The party is pretty much par: there's dancing and liquor and smoke and sloppy kisses and ugly-crying, a frenetic edge enlivening the weariness, but there are threads of genuine joy and Poe feels them the most when he hears the other voices harmonizing with his own. They're alive, and they can make these sounds.

 

After the last shivers of a high lonesome descant, sung by a war orphan turned mechanic, he places the guitar in her six-fingered hands and she takes it reverently. "Better think twice," someone slurs. "Dameron loves that thing almost as much as he loves his man. If there's a scratch on it tomorrow you're gonna get your head handed to you."

 

Her compound eyes refract the firelight, concerned. "It's fine," he says. "They're joking. Have fun with it." Finn, he needs to find Finn. The music turns rhythmic as he wanders, a deepening dirty beat. Someone hands him a bottle and he swigs from it; someone pulls him into a dance, grinds against his ass, laughs, spins him away. Someone hands him a cigarette and he draws on it deeply, feeling whatever intoxicant they've rolled in there seep from his lungs to the surface of his skin, setting it buzzing. Then Finn's saying, "There you are," and kissing him. "You wanna dance?"

 

"For a minute." They settle into each other and into the beat, Poe's hand right above where Finn's ass swells out, Finn's hand on Poe's nape pulling his head down. Poe listens with his whole body, fitting in between Finn's motions and the music, and he could probably do this forever except there's more he wants to do. Just as he's thinking that, Finn says, "Okay, enough dancing, let's go off to the side," and Poe follows him because that's something he's never been sorry he did.

 

The shadowed places just outside the periphery of the bonfire are already claimed, and by the time they can be sure of not tripping over anyone else the trees are thick above them, only a few shards of doubled moonlight making it all the way to the ground. One of them catches the high spots on Finn's face and Poe thinks he might die of beauty.

 

They kiss for a long dreamy time, feeling each other up under their shirts, Poe's palms drinking in Finn's muscular back and the slight softness of his belly. He gently turns Finn so they're back to front, reaches around and rubs Finn's cock through his pants, long firm strokes that draw out little moans and sharp breaths. He says softly, "You're so beautiful, so hot, I want you so much," and it's his turn to moan as Finn presses back against him. "I wanna be in you, let me be inside you."

 

"Shit," Finn gasps and thrusts hard against Poe's hand and then starts laughing, so Poe laughs too, strokes Finn the rest of the way through it, kissing the back of his neck over and over. Hooks his thumbs in Finn's waistband: "You were gonna have to take these off anyway."

 

Finn mutters something about getting bare-ass naked in the middle of the woods and not to mention _bugs,_ but he does take them off, and his shirt too, standing marked by moonlight and shadow. Moonlight slides over his face and catches in his glance before he deliberately plants both palms against a tree and leans forward.

 

Poe can't take advantage of this invitation right away, because he can't breathe. He's dizzy and it has nothing to do with anything he's ingested. This is not new (well, the tree is new), and it's because it's not new that it's incredible. He looks at Finn and actually _gets it_ that they might not die--that they might live--for a long while yet. That they might get to do that together.

 

He moves forward then and leans his chest flush with Finn's back, fucking slowly between his asscheeks and kissing his neck and shoulders. The idea that they have time, they have _time,_ flows over him in waves almost as intense as the slide of Finn's skin against his cock. Then he realizes, "Shit, I don't have anything," and Finn says, "Left-hand pants pocket," and Poe laughs again because Finn is a strategic genius and because, like everything else tonight, this feels like a sign that they can have everything they want.

 

He slicks himself up and fucks between Finn's incredible thighs for a second, or maybe an hour--time's gone strange and that probably _is_ whatever he inhaled back at the party--before pushing inside and swearing at how good it feels, this time, every time, Finn so warm and tight around him. The sounds Finn's making are hoarse and deep. Poe thinks he hears his name in there and "fuck" and " _please"_ and he's more than happy to oblige. He can stand this as long as Finn can, he could come anytime but he wants to draw this out. So he does, until Finn's groaning even louder with each thrust and Poe whispers, "You need a break?"

 

"No way. I-- _yeah,_ that's good--" and all of a sudden Poe's much closer than he thought he was. Finn says urgently, "Your hand, Poe, could you just--"

 

"I got you." He reaches around and gets a hand on Finn's cock again, not trying for finesse, just moving his hand in time with his own thrusts. Finn shudders and pulses and then Poe's just gone, coming so hard he sees lights at the back of his eyes and collapsing against Finn's back with a slap of sweat.

 

He pulls out, still feeling the aftershocks, and turns Finn to face him. Kisses his eyelids and his mouth. "My man," he says. "My love, my sweetheart." Why doesn't he say this kind of thing all the time? He's going to say it all the time now. Finn seems surprised, but pleased; he cups Poe's face to kiss him back.

 

Poe spreads their discarded clothing out on the ground, which is going to make the whole process of putting it back on much worse. But for now they use it to sit on, Poe's back to Finn's chest and Finn's arms around him. "What are we gonna do now?" Finn asks in Poe's ear. "I don't mean _now_ now. I mean soon."

 

"I don't know. I--honestly, I didn't think I'd ever have to answer that question. Who'm I gonna resist now?"

 

"Murderers. Kidnappers. Same people as before. They aren't gone just because they don't have a fancy name and a lot of big ships anymore. I know you know that." He sighs. "There's gonna be lots of people like us, people who fought the whole time, who didn't expect to stop. What are they all gonna do?"

 

When they limp back to the base in their leaf-strewn, come-stained clothes, they draw a few eyes but no one's really in any position to comment. They shower together and Finn smears antihistamine salve on the bugbites Poe can't reach--despite Finn's complaint, the bugs seem to have left him alone in favor of Poe's tender flesh. They collapse together on top of the blankets, Finn's head on Poe's shoulder, his hand on Poe's stomach, Poe's breath in Finn's hair.

 

 

6.

 

"When do you leave?"

 

"Tomorrow afternoon," Finn says. "Plenty of time."

 

"Doesn't feel like it."

 

"Yeah, not to me either." They're in their quarters, which will never be their quarters again after today, packing their things. The Resistance is demobilizing, and all its people--its pilots and infantry and weapons specialists and strategists and spies and console jockeys and medics--are dispersing across the galaxy. Some are going home; some never can. "You're gonna go see your dad?"

 

"For a little while. He'd never forgive me if I didn't, and he'll enjoy giving me advice about what to do next." Poe frowns. "I guess he did fight in a war that ended, now I think about it. He might actually have some ideas, which is more than I have. I wish I was going with you. I wish you weren't going."

 

"You wouldn't have anything to do there. You'd go nuts." Finn is going to one of the towns that's agreed to be a host for former stormtroopers: a deconditioning program, training in more kinds of work, practice for lives other than the ones they've had. Medics, mindhealers, and even former fighters who've gotten to know Finn or some of the other defectors: quite a few Resistance people are going there, or to similar towns, but not many pilots. "It makes sense for me to go," Finn adds, not for the first time. "I'm one of five-six people with both the administrative experience and the...direct experience. I can do a lot there."

 

"And it was kinda your idea. And you want to go."

 

"And I want to go. Because it's the right thing to do." They smile at each other, moving together. Poe strokes the back of Finn's neck where his hair's shaved close, angles his own head so they can kiss each other breathless. "Let me make this special for you then," he says finally. "Since we won't get to for a while."

"I don't need it to be special," Finn says. "I want it to be normal. We knew every time could be the last time, we went into it knowing that, right? And I mean, that could still happen, one of us could die any second, but--this is just a year. It's not even a year. You're gonna come see me. Unless you die. Or I die. But everything's different, everything's changing. I don't want anything fancy or new or strange, I just want you."

 

"We can work with that." They sidle over to the bed still gripping each other, because letting go for any length of time feels like a waste. "I want your cock in my mouth," Poe murmurs. "Nothing strange about that, is there?"

 

This is not the kind of question Finn feels he can answer, except by undoing his pants and peeling out of them, awkwardly as ever, and spreading his legs for Poe to settle between them. He tangles his hands in Poe's hair but doesn't try to control his rhythm, just lets him do what he does, deep and wet and sliding and _dedicated._ Just when Finn thinks there's no point in holding on much longer, Poe licks his way off and comes up again to kiss Finn's mouth. "You wanna fuck me? Want me to fuck you? Should I keep going? Whatever you want."

 

"Keep going," Finn says. He adds, "Please," and Poe grins and takes him back in like it's what he was born to do.

 

Finn sighs and arches and comes into the back of Poe's throat, and falls backward on the bed. Poe follows him there and rubs off against his thigh. They lie together for a little while, and then they get up, and clean off, and go back to packing their things.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Since posting this, I wrote a kind of sequel or epilogue to it, called "Length of Days," if anyone wants to follow these two a little further down the road.


End file.
